


A Life Deferred

by FrozenWings



Category: Elena of Avalor (Cartoon)
Genre: Budding Love, But let's be honest: - Freeform, But not with who you all may want, Elena surely had a friend group before the whole amulet thing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Regrets, Reminiscing, Sorry!, With a potentially more-than-friends friend, what might have been
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27435379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenWings/pseuds/FrozenWings
Summary: When one's life has been in stasis for four decades, one tends to not dwell on it too much. After all, it's not like they were completely robbed of their chance to live, right? And Elena settled so easily back into life as the sixteen-year-old Crown Princess of Avalor, it was similarly easy for her and Mateo to forget that the first fifteen years of that life happened back before he was even born.But that doesn't change the fact that they did, or that the world, and the lives of the people who lived and breathed within it, moved on when Elena did not. The aftermath of a trip to visit an old friend reminds them both of that.
Relationships: Mateo de Alva/Elena Castillo Flores
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	A Life Deferred

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings Elena fandom! Welcome to my fic! Ever since watching the show's debut way back in 2016 (ugh, I feel old), I've had this idea floating about in the back of my head centered around the fact that everyone Elena knew pre-amulet grew up and moved on with their lives while she remained frozen in time. I toyed with it off an on for a while, until the S3 episode 'Flower of Light' premiered and finally kicked this into gear. In the end, it all worked out because now I could include some of my favorite S3 elements. I hope you enjoy the end result!

_“Mateo!”_

***POOF!***

“AUGH!” 

Mateo groaned as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his robe, smearing it with the viscous blue sort-of liquid that had exploded out of the vial he was attempting to mix an anti-crop-fungus potion in. It required a delicate balance of ingredients to work properly, a balance which had been unceremoniously upset when he dumped in nearly half a bottle of locust wing extract in his surprise.

He looked up from his workstation to glare at Naomi, now standing innocently in the middle of his workshop trying to look contrite while simultaneously holding back a bout of laughter. “Go ahead,” Mateo grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

With that, Naomi burst into a round of belly-deep guffaws, arms wrapped around her middle as though she’d explode into pieces from mirth otherwise while Mateo produced a towel from a low drawer to finish cleaning up. “Sorry,” Naomi eventually managed to gasp, wiping some stray tears from her eyes. “But you should have _seen_ how ridiculous you looked!”

“I’m sure it was a hoot,” Mateo deadpanned, busily gathering up the ingredients for his failed alchemical endeavor and putting them back in their proper places; something about Naomi’s entrance told him he was done working for the day. “I suppose, though, that there was a reason you were shouting my name loud enough for all Avalor to hear and startling innocent wizards in the process?”

“Oh, yeah.” Naomi instantly sobered, face serious as the laughter fled her eyes and was replaced by a concerned look. “Can you go talk to Elena? She just got back and something is clearly bothering her. I tried asking her about it, but she brushed me off, which we both know is totally not like her. Normally I’d follow her around nagging until she told me, but I need to get back to the harbor; a large cargo ship is docking today, and with Dad’s wrist sprained and Mom away, they need all the extra hands they can get. So?” She finished, fixing Mateo with a pleading look. “Think you could? Talk to her, I mean, not go help at the harbor.” She cocked a rakish grin. "We all know how that ended last time."

Mateo nodded distractedly, eyes thoughtful as he turned over his friend’s words (not the ones about the harbor). Elena had spent the day in the old part of the city visiting someone named Felicia. H didn’t know much about her, only that she had lost her husband a few years back, was rapidly gaining a reputation as a spectacular dance teacher (if he wasn’t careful during the next royal ball, he’d find himself on the enrollment list), and was a close friend of Elena’s from before the whole trapped-in-an-enchanted-amulet thing.

It was kind of strange, come to think of it, that a person Elena knew once adventured around Avalor with as a teenager was now old enough to have loved and lost and passed through so many milestones that were years away for the crown princess; that enough time had elapsed between then and now for life to plow furrows on faces, aches to take up a permanent residence in joints, and hair to begin that slow transition from rich, dark brown to silvery gray. He idly wondered if Elena ever thought about this, but shoved the thought away for the time being. He had more pressing concerns. 

“Sure thing,” he said, noticing how his words spurred Naomi to let her wringing hands fall to her sides in relief.

"Thanks Mateo. You’re a good friend."

Mateo turned away, ostensibly to drop the sticky blue gunk-covered towel in an overflowing basket of other things destined for the wash (all covered in similarly questionable substances), but in truth to hide the flush that tinted his face. Naomi was as perceptive as they come, and he just knew that if he tried to face her just now, it would take her all of a second to detect that fledgling, hottish desire in his chest, the one that tumbled like a pack of gamboling duendes, to be more than just the Crown Princess' ‘good friend.’ And while he knew Naomi could keep a secret well, he didn’t necessarily want to test just _how_ well on a matter as delicate (and potentially mortifying) as this. So he made certain to take a composing breath and check that his pulse was something resembling normal before turning back around and asking in a voice that (thankfully) didn't crack or tremble, “Any idea where I can find her?”

“Try the garden.” Naomi called over her shoulder as she trotted out the door back into the library. “That’s where she was heading when I last saw her. Oh!” She poked her head back in, a slight impish expression curving her lips. “You _may_ want to bring an umbrella.”

******************************

When Mateo found Elena some time later, he realized that Naomi had been right on all three accounts: she was in the garden, seated on a carved stone bench and staring vacantly at a wilting rosebush (note to self: brew potion to fix that); something was undoubtedly bothering her, as evidenced by the deep cerulean color of her dress; and he should have brought an umbrella. 

Courtesy of her new magic, a storm cloud had materialized over her head, causing a localized downpour that its inadvertent creator was either oblivious to or too depressed to care about. Rivulets of rainwater coursed down her face and neck before soaking into her ruffled collar, causing it to droop listlessly, and a puddle formed beneath her sopping ponytail, tiny teardrops dripping from its tip as though it were beset with a misery all its own. Swallowing a groan at the idea of becoming equally drenched, Mateo carefully took a seat alongside the princess on the bench, trying not to shudder at the feel of cold water trickling down the back of his neck and soaking through the seat of his robe (forget the umbrella, he should have brought a towel to sit on).

“So,” he said, fingers drumming nervously on his knees, unsure of how to start this conversation. “Interesting weather we’re having.” He winced. _Idiot!_ Elena didn’t seem to notice his discomfiture, though, or anything else, eyes still far away and unseeing as a petal dropped from the bush and floated slowly to the ground. Mateo sighed and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even more than it normally was. Why was this so hard? He tried again, taking a more direct approach. “How was Feli?” 

“Fine,” came the detached answer. A knot started to form in Mateo’s stomach; whatever was bothering Elena must be more serious than he initially supposed (which was saying something, considering how all manner of alarm bells had been set off the instant he noticed the personal raincloud). Normally she’d go on for hours about a visit to a friend, often waving her hands wildly and detouring down several tangents before her excursion was relayed in full; such a clipped answer was unheard of coming from her. 

“Elena,” he said, voice forceful with worry and a little louder than normal. Elena gave a little jump, startled out of her thoughts, and turned to face him. Mateo's breath caught suddenly as he found himself staring into her warm brown eyes, filled with a boundless sadness instead of their usual glowing light. “What’s wrong?” he asked, gently this time, resisting the urge to reach out and grab her hand or pull her in for a tight hug (an urge he had found bubbling up more and more as of late). 

Elena heaved a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of Azaluna before returning her gaze to the rosebush, and when she spoke again her voice was low and joyless. “I ran into someone on my way back from Feli’s.” 

“Who?” Mateo pressed, trying to banish a litany of images of unsavory characters she could have met (not that she couldn’t handle any or all of them herself). 

“Diego.”

Mateo’s mind raced as he rifled through every friend, acquaintance, and noble he had ever encountered, searching for this ‘Diego’ that had Elena in such a state, only to draw a blank, leading him to ask, “Who’s Diego?” 

“Diego,” she began, pulling a flower from her hair and twirling it absently between slender fingers, “was- is- a friend from back when...back before everything.” 

“Oh,” was all Mateo could think to say in response. A minute passed in silence, the only sound the raindrops pattering against the stone and degrading the manicured lawn at their feet into a muddy swamp. “Were you good friends?” Mateo ventured hesitantly, feeling somehow that he already knew the answer.

Elena gave a small smile, still looking at the flower, and nodded. “The best. His parents were the palace gardeners at the time, so he usually hung around the grounds. He knew my schedule, and always made sure that he was working in the flowerbeds outside the library during my tutoring sessions; my old deportment teacher actually thought I was allergic to her perfume, I feigned so many coughing fits so I wouldn't laugh out loud at the backflips he turned or the faces he pulled. The second I was free, I'd race outside to our meeting place-" she didn't say where it was, but Mateo had a hunch, judging by the way her free hand traced a carving on the bench's lip with telling familiarity- "and we'd run off to explore Avalor City together, sampling sweets from the vendors and playing tag in Castillo Park. We were both too old for it to be considered proper behavior, but we didn’t care; so long as we were together, other people’s opinions didn’t matter.” 

The smile turned wistful as the memories poured forth like the raindrops from the cloud. “I’d usually take him as my plus-one to royal functions, and as stuffy and boring as they were he always made them more fun. I remember this one time my parents hosted the royal family from Paradisio. I was so mad at having to attend that ball; there was going to be a meteor shower that night and I was going to wind up missing it just so I could stand around and get backhanded compliments from a bunch of nobles I barely knew. But Diego said that he had an idea and to trust him. 

During the ball, he became ‘suddenly ill’ and desperately needed to lie down. Naturally my parents excused him and through some quick talking on Diego’s part me as well to ‘help him rest.’ Once away, we dashed off to our favorite spot on the roof and had the best view of the shower. It was wonderful; we laughed and talked for hours and just as the meteor shower was winding down, we-“ 

She didn’t finish her sentence, but 'had our first kiss' hung in the air, settling between them as though they had their own physical presence, like an irritating third wheel interrupting an intimate conversation for two. Mateo glanced up at her in time to see her wet her lips as a faint blush tinged her cheeks, as though she were subconsciously trying to recreate the sensation from all those years ago. 

A sticky, thorny, green feeling that suddenly welled up in his chest, causing him to suck in a silent breath to snuff out an incoming hiss of pain, and he looked away, digging his fingernails into his palm to try and distract himself from it. He knew this feeling, had felt it before when Gabe had puffed out his chest on the royal dinghy and declared himself to be Elena's better friend, and he hated it. Hated it because he knew it was wrong, knew he was supposed to be better than this, knew now was not the time for petty, petulant feelings of jealousy. But here he was, heart turning green with envy over the boy who had given Elena her first kiss while she was on the verge of tears, if she hadn’t spilled some already (the rain dampening her face made it hard to tell). Despicable. He was supposed to be a better friend then that.

Elena deserved a better friend than that.

And he refused to let some rotten jealous leech prevent him from being one.

So, Mateo pushed the sticky, thorny, green sensation back down, resolving to ignore it for the time being (or eternity; that worked too). Still, he couldn’t stop his next words from dropping off his tongue before realizing what they were. “Were you in love with him?” 

“Yes. I mean, no!! I mean- I don’t know!”. Elena dithered agitatedly, the flower trembling in her tightening grip. “We were both young, Mateo; teenagers. What did we know? I barely knew what it was to have a crush on someone! But,” she paused and once again twirled the flower. “Ever since that night, I wondered if maybe, one day, I could think of him that way. But now I guess I’ll never know.” 

As she spoke her voice dwindled to a whisper until it was nearly drowned out by the persistent rain, now a moderately heavy downpour. Mateo’s robe clung to his skin, and his boots were starting to fill, making the feet within feel heavy and thick to match the thoughts muddling his head. No sound passed between them excepting the steady tattoo of the rain. Then: “I’m sorry.” 

Elena shifted her gaze to meet Mateo’s, seeing nothing but sympathy, all feelings of jealousy having melted away at her uncertain, girlish confession, the rain carrying them off and away to disappear into the earth as he continued. “I’m sorry that you two never had a chance to...figure it out.”

“Thanks,” she said, offering him a sad smile that was still beautiful (as if she could ever look otherwise), before lapsing into silence once again. Mateo looked up curiously. The rain hadn’t abated in the slightest. There was something else on her mind, he could tell, whether through his wizard-wrought sensitivity to magic or some other sixth sense that always seemed heightened when Elena was around (though he supposed one didn't have to be particularly astute to figure out that she was still upset, considering the raincloud).

As though sensing his question, Elena spoke further. “But that actually isn’t what bothered me the most.” 

“Huh?” Mateo wished he had a disappearing potion on him, or, even better, one that magically bestowed a silver tongue. 

“He’s so happy now,” Elena continued. “He has a beautiful, loving wife, amazing kids, and he just became a grandfather last month; I can’t wish any of that away from him because of one ki- night.” She turned her face skywards, eyes closed dismally, letting the raindrops splash onto her face, as though they could cleanse her mind and soul of her troubles. “As he was telling me about his life for the past forty years, I couldn’t help but think that that should have been my life.”

Her tone changed, quiet sadness gradually giving way to shouted frustration with every word, and she scowled at the cloud above her. “This isn’t how it should be; this isn’t how _I_ should be. I’m not supposed to be a teenager submitting to a grand council. I’m supposed to be in my fifties and queen of Avalor. I should be married and celebrating the birth of my grandkids and reminiscing with Diego and Feli about all the adventures we had before ‘settling down’ and starting families, not flying around on jacquins blasting at rogue malvagos with an enchanted scepter that I shouldn’t even know is enchanted! And rainclouds shouldn’t materialize over my head if I’m feeling anything less than blissfully happy!” She shook a defiant fist at the offending raincloud, which seemed to sense her rising anger and grumbled a low thunderclap in response before raining harder. 

Elena sighed and slumped her shoulders at the ineffectiveness of her tirade, anger spent (thankfully before the faint orange glow Mateo had noticed tinting her dress had a chance to fully illuminate it). She turned her eyes to meet his once again, and for the first time she looked her age, her true age, world-weary and forlorn, and in that moment Mateo keenly felt the full magnitude of the consequences wrought by Shuriki and the enchanted amulet. 

He had never before given it much thought beyond the fact that it saved her life; but magic that powerful always has a cost, a dark shadow to its glorious light. She had lived, thank God, but her life had been lost anyway, the life she had known forty-some years ago alongside the life she would have lived. Her heart bore a pattern of scars which otherwise would not have been there; from languishing four decades in an enchanted jewel, not knowing what became of her family and kingdom; from watching her parents meet their horrifying demise before her very eyes; from the betrayal of a cousin she had once regarded as a brother (to say he hated Esteban right now would be an understatement; he wanted nothing more than to punch his smug face and ridiculous mustache, even though he would probably break his hand in the process). With such grief-filled thoughts weighing on her heart, it was small wonder her thoughts would drift to what her life might have been, especially when faced with a living echo of it.

No matter how much the two of them went through together or how close they became he would never fully understand this unique, regretful pain, and it tore him up inside. He wished he could share some of her burden, relieve Atlas’s shoulders just for a moment, but even a royal wizard has his limits (though he’d give his tamborita in a heartbeat in exchange for such a spell). _But you’re not just a royal wizard,_ a small voice in his head reminded him. _You’re her friend._

It was as though the thought ignited a lamp, clearing his head, the shadows of melancholy and worry and regret banished for the time being as new words took hold.

“Maybe that’s true,” Mateo said slowly, holding Elena’s despairing gaze. “Things certainly would have been different if none of that had happened. But, you know, some good came out of it too.” She cocked her head at him adorably (adorably? What was he thinking?), silently asking _What do you mean?_ “Well,” he started, drumming his fingers as he thought. “Like you said: you wouldn’t be flying on jacquins. That’s fun.”

Elena gave a slight nod and eyebrow raise. “That’s true.” 

“You also would never have seen Vallestrella or met the Sunbird Elders. Or Zuzo.”

“True again.” A smile, a happier one this time, was starting to form. 

“And think of all the people you wouldn’t have met! Or, at least, became close friends with: Naomi, Gabe, Valentina, Rebekah, Chloe...me...”. He swallowed the blush threatening to scale his neck, instead focusing on how her smile grew until it was genuine (don’t stare at her lips, don’t stare at her lips, don't stare at her lips) and the rain lightened. 

"Huh, you’re right; I never thought of it like that.” She turned thoughtful. “I guess I wouldn’t have Flo, and,” her look turned sly, “you wouldn’t be my royal wizard either, huh?”

“I-uh—yeah, probably not,” he stammered, letting a dopey smile bloom across his face. She chuckled briefly, but a moment later the cloud had moved back over the sun. “But I still wish all that awful stuff hadn’t happened.”

“Me too,” agreed Mateo, nodding and remembering the elaborate altar that was assembled for the late king and queen every year. “But wondering about what might have been won’t change anything in the present. It’s okay to feel sad about it, but when you do, remember all the good things in your life right now. And if you ask me, you’re exactly where you should be. My mom believes that everything happens for a reason, and if you’re here, its because you’re meant to be. And...” he wet his lips nervously before saying his final point. “If you want....what you think you could’ve had with Diego, a husband and kids and...that, I’m sure you’ll get it. You deserve it.” _You deserve the world._

The rain had slowly started to let up as he spoke until it was little more than a drizzle. Elena was looking at him warmly, eyes brimming with tears, though judging by the smile that reached her eyes they were of gratitude. The sun was glinting off her bare neck and shoulders, and her bangs stuck to her forehead in a beguiling way. Mateo’s heart fluttered in his throat at the sight and he was overcome with a sudden impulse to reach over and touch the princess, brush her bangs behind her ears, caress the damp cheek. 

But he hadn’t yet told her, or anyone, how he was beginning to feel about her, and now, he knew, was not the time to start. Instead, he moved his hand so it was resting alongside hers on the bench, fingertips barely brushing one another like the wind whispering across the grass in a meadow. Suddenly, without warning, her hand moved so it was on top of his, and then she was grasping it, squeezing it companionably, and it was as though he had been hit with a bolt of magical lightening. His hand tingled at her touch, the feeling racing up his arm straight to his chest, acting like a match tossed into a brazier of oil, before spreading to his stomach, causing it to flip and gyrate, and it was only when he started to feel lightheaded did he realize that he had stopped breathing (unfortunately, remembering to breathe did not eliminate that particular sensation, and he continued to feel as though he were about to keel over any moment). 

Elena reached up with her other hand, still holding the flower, to fiddle sheepishly with an earring, shimmering in the sunlight. “Thanks,” she said, voice and face radiating gratitude. “I’ll remember that.” 

The last of the rain disappeared, the cloud dissolved into the sky, and her dress faded back to its usual red and white. Playfully, she reached over and tucked the flower behind Mateo’s ear (ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh). “I don’t know how you do it, Mateo, but you always know just what to say. What would I do without you?”

“Heh heh,” Mateo scrambled to form a coherent response, deciding that hiding his blush was futile. “Sit under rainclouds all day getting soaked and catching your death?”

She shoved him playfully, and he delighted in her levity. “Oh, Mateo, you can be such a baby about getting wet!” 

“Well,” Mateo said with feigned indignation, "you try walking around Avalor in wet robes! The water adds an extra five pounds! I checked!" 

“You would,” Elena teased back affectionately. “Here,” she stood, pulling him up with her, "I have the perfect solution.” She sent him a coy look that made him forget his head a moment before tapping him briskly on the nose. "Tag! You’re it!”

With that she took off across the garden, musical laughter ringing in her wake. Mateo stood stock still a moment, waiting for his brain to resume function, marveling that the water dampening his skin wasn’t evaporating into steam before his very eyes and wondering if she noticed his flustered state. He shook his head, sopping forelock flapping heavily across his face; he’d tell her one day, just not today. For today he had more pressing concerns, namely trying to tag the princess frolicking gaily in the garden and beckoning in a patch of drying sun. With that, Mateo ran after her, smiling as Elena skipped several paces ahead of him, his laughter mixing with hers. 

They were too old for it to be considered proper, but they didn’t care; they were together, two people of different times brought together by fate, and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, even though I loved the finale, I would have loved it even more if Elena/Mateo became canon. They're so perfect together!!!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it! Please consider leaving a kudos or comment if you enjoyed my little foray into the world of Elena fanfic! They never go unappreciated. Again, thank you so, so much.


End file.
